by Lisa Childs
“Avery…”
“Never thought I’d say this to you,” she remarked. “But you talk too much.” She locked her arms around his neck and pulled his head close for her kiss.
Her tongue teased him, skimming across his lower lip. He groaned.
It was goodbye. That was what he told himself. She would leave for Chicago, and he would never see her again. Touch her again…
He would let her go. And she would be safe. But first he had to be with her one last time. He pulled her shirt up and over her head. Her blond hair fell like silk back around her shoulders. She wore a bra, but it was another one of those nearly transparent lacy ones. He quickly unclasped it so it dropped away. And he cupped her breasts in his hands, gently caressing them. His thumb flicked over her nipples.
She moaned. Then she tugged up his T-shirt and pulled it off his head. Rubbing her breasts against the hair on his chest, she moaned again. Then she reached for his zipper.
He caught her hand in his. He wanted this moment to last. So he pushed her gently back onto the bed. Then he pulled off her shorts. Her legs were so long, so sexy. He dropped kisses along each one. Then he trailed his tongue up her inner thigh.
She trembled and shifted against the bed, making it creak. “Dawson…” she murmured.
“You talk too much,” he admonished her. He wanted her beyond speech—wanted her capable only of moaning and screaming. He took his time, running his hands over every inch of her silky skin. He slid his tongue across her but he didn’t touch her clit.
She arched up and whimpered. “Please…”
But he’d gone back to her breasts. He used his tongue on her nipples, lapping at them until she shuddered and uttered a tiny cry.
It wasn’t enough. He wanted more—wanted to give her more. So he moved his mouth lower, back between her thighs. And he stroked his tongue over her. Then he thrust it inside her.
“Dawson…” Her fingers clutched at his hair, but she wasn’t trying to pull him away. She was urging him closer. He moved his hand over her, rubbing her clit with his thumb while he continued to stroke his tongue inside her.
She cried out again as she came, shuddering beneath his touch and his mouth. His control snapped. He had to be inside her. So he kicked off his jeans and boxers and rolled the condom over his pulsing cock.
He lifted her legs, sliding them over his shoulders, before burying himself inside her. Those inner muscles of hers contracted, clutching him. Then her hands slid down his chest, her nails scraping across his nipples.
He moved inside her, sliding deeper. She thrust up, matching his frantic rhythm. They hung tightly to each other as they raced toward release. The tension inside Dawson was unbearable—more intense than anything he’d felt before.
Her nails dug in and she screamed. That was the scream he loved hearing from her—the one of intense pleasure. Not the one he’d heard the day of the fire—the scream of fear while she gasped for breath on her smoke-filled bedroom’s floor.
If he’d lost her…
“Dawson…” she murmured his name, probably surprised that he had stopped moving.
He was still hard, still pulsing inside her. He needed to come, too. He needed her. He began to move again, sliding in and out. But he did it slowly—with long strokes.
Pretty soon she was breathing hard again, clutching at him again. Her eyes widened with shock as she came once more. This time he joined her, letting his control slip for just a moment as pleasure overwhelmed him.
But it was more than pleasure. It was love, just as Kim had guessed. Even though he knew he couldn’t trust Avery—couldn’t be with her—he’d fallen for her.
19
AVERY SNUGGLED AGAINST Dawson’s chest, his arm wound tightly—protectively—around her. She knew now why he’d said everything he had in the hospital. He’d wanted her to leave because he’d been worried about her.
He’d even admitted that he cared. She cared, too.
He pulled her more closely against him. “I can’t believe Zimmer told you not to run the story.”
“You know why,” she said. “It’s why you tried keeping it from me that the fire was arson. You didn’t want to feed the arsonist’s need for attention.”
“I still don’t,” he admitted. “But I don’t want you in danger, either.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest and said, “I feel very safe with you.” And she did.
She wasn’t sure now if Northern Lakes was home to her. Or his arms.
He cursed. “I should have been with you the minute you got out of the hospital.”
“Superintendent Zimmer has a state police officer watching over me and making sure the arsonist doesn’t try to hurt me again.” She’d tried to refuse the protection though. But Zimmer had been persistent, so she’d made him post one near her sister’s, too.
Dawson snorted. “A police officer doesn’t know how to handle an arsonist. What if he started another fire? What would a cop do?”
“Call you,” she said with a smile. Just as she’d never heard him sound as cold as he had in the hospital, she’d never heard him sound like this—almost jealous.
“So let’s cut out the middle man,” he suggested. “Until you can get a flight back to Chicago, I will stay with you.”
The hurt flashed through her again. Maybe he didn’t care. “You still want me to return to Chicago?”
His arm contracted—almost of its own volition—pulling her closer. “Yes, you have to. As soon as possible.”
Her boss had wanted her back even before her week was up. But she had stalled, saying that she had to set up a contractor to repair her cottage. She’d actually been hoping Dawson would come around again, that he would forgive her. But even though they’d made love, she still wasn’t certain he’d forgiven her. “I have to get a contractor started on the smoke damage before I leave.”
“You really do love this place,” he said.
She was beginning to worry that it wasn’t all she loved.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For putting out the fire,” she said. “If you hadn’t, the cottage might have been a total loss.”
“I want to put out the fire,” he said. “But every time I touch you, it starts up again—hotter than before.”
Her breath escaped in a shaky sigh. “It does,” she agreed. She had never felt anything as powerful as the attraction between them.
“Like right now,” he said. “I just want to lie here with you in my arms, your head on my chest…” He clasped her hand, sliding it down his chest to his hard cock. “But I can’t touch you and not want you.”
“I want you, too,” she said. Her clit began to throb as desire overwhelmed her. She slid her hand around his erection and stroked up and down the length of him.
She didn’t want to leave him.
He groaned. “Staying with you to make sure you’re safe until you leave…” He groaned again as she continued to pump him. “It’s going to be a sacrifice but…”
“It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make?” she teased.
He leaned down and kissed her. “Very willing,” he murmured.
He was still her hero.
She squirmed in his arms, moving down his body, so that she could use her mouth on him, too. She sucked on the tip as she continued to stroke the length of him.
He groaned again as sweat began to bead on his brow and upper lip. “Avery…”
His body was tense. He was close to coming—close to taking the pleasure she wanted to give him. Then that damn siren went off.
He jerked upright and cursed.
“Dawson,” she said. “Let me finish…” She couldn’t imagine letting him go, as close as he was—as badly as he needed release.
He groaned. But his hands gripped her shoulders and moved her away from him. “I have to leave.”
“But…”
He dressed quickly—so quickly that his shirt was inside out, and his
jeans weren’t zipped all the way. But maybe that was because he was still hard.
“Y—you…” she stammered.
He leaned down and kissed her lips. “I have to go,” he said. “That siren means it’s a big one.”
Before she could protest further, he was gone. She heard his truck’s engine roar as he sped down the driveway, heard the tires squeal as he turned onto the road. She could even feel the urgency he’d felt. The siren had sounded different than when she’d heard it before. It had been louder, longer, more intense. A big fire.
Fear coursed through her as she remembered awakening to smoke and the window being blocked. That had been a little fire. What would a big fire be like?
She’d reported on the big fire that had destroyed so much of the forest and nearly killed her nephews, as well. But she hadn’t been allowed close to it. She’d seen more when her plane had flown over the fire as they were landing. And she’d seen the smoke. It had been everywhere—as if the town was fogged in for days.
It was late. But she wasn’t going to sleep—and not just because she had a potential story to report. She wasn’t going to sleep because Dawson was out there, in the middle of a big blaze.
She dressed quickly and grabbed the keys for her rental car. By the time she made it to the firehouse, all the engines were gone. Only the curly-haired kid stood in the empty garage.
“I’m not supposed to tell you where they went.”
She smiled. As anxious as they’d been to get to the fire, they had taken the time to tell the kid not to talk to her. Dawson knew her well; he knew she would follow him. He just didn’t know why.
It wasn’t just because of the story now. It was because of him. She wanted to make sure he was okay.
Smoke was everywhere again, the sky so dark she couldn’t tell where the fire was.
“Maybe I came to see you,” she told him.
His face flushed.
She’d asked him his name before. But she struggled to remember it for a moment. “Stanley…” It was such an old-fashioned name for a teenager.
“Assistant Superintendent Hess warned me that you’d be extra nice to get me to tell you where they are.”
Dawson definitely knew her well.
“He did?”
“But it’s too dangerous for you to go there, so I can’t tell you,” Stanley said.
Her heart had been pounding fast since the siren had gone off; it began to pound even faster now. Dawson was in danger.
A clicking noise drew her attention to the open doors of the garage. A woman walked up the short drive, her heels snapping against the concrete. “Hey,” Fiona O’Brien said. “I thought you would have left town after the fire.”
“I’m not letting an arsonist chase me away from my home,” Avery said.
“Just burn you out of it?” Fiona asked.
“He tried,” Avery admitted. “But it’s only minor damage.”
“It could have been worse…”
“Like this fire?” she asked.
Fiona’s green eyes were dark and her face pale.
“Dawson said it was a big one,” Avery said, “when he left.”
“He was with you when the siren sounded?”
Avery nodded.
“I didn’t think he would forgive you for that special feature.”
“I don’t think he has,” Avery said, expressing her other fear aloud. He’d made love to her, but she’d pretty much thrown herself at him. His only real concern had been her safety. But she couldn’t take that personally; Dawson rescued everyone. “But that’s the least of my concerns right now.”
Fiona looked up at the dark sky, too, and her face grew tense with worry.
“You must really love Wyatt a lot,” Avery said. “I can tell this is killing you—worrying about him. You didn’t want your brother to become a firefighter because of the danger, but then you fell for a Hotshot.”
Fiona released a shaky little breath. “Wyatt is worth all the worry,” she said. “Not that I have any reason to worry. Wyatt and the rest of the crew—they’re highly trained and they work well together.”
The same had been true of other Hotshot teams, but they’d lost members. Several years ago an entire team had been killed when the fire had jumped and turned on them. And more recently another team had lost a member in the wildfires out West.
“They protect each other,” Fiona continued.
And everyone else.
“Wyatt will come home to me,” Fiona said. And as she said it, she lifted her head. It was as if the worry fell off her. Only confidence remained, confidence in her fiancé and their love.
Avery envied her that confidence. She had no confidence in Dawson’s feelings. Sure, he cared about her. But he cared about and took care of everyone. It was who he was as much as it was his job.
While she now realized Northern Lakes was home, it wasn’t where she lived. She had to go back to Chicago and there was no way Dawson would join her there. Dawson’s team was his family; he wouldn’t give them up. And she wouldn’t give up her career.
He would come home from the big fire, but he wouldn’t be coming home to her.
*
THE FIRE WAS even worse than Dawson had imagined. The sky wasn’t black with smoke; it glowed red as the flames rose all around them. There were several points of origin. So it couldn’t have been a lightning strike—even if there’d actually been a storm, which there hadn’t. The fire roared as it consumed the trees in the national forest. They’d saved these trees last time. This area of the forest hadn’t been touched.
Until tonight.
Tonight it was being devoured. They’d brought in a helicopter to drop water on it. They had the dozers and the backhoes to make the breaks. But the fire was everywhere. Everywhere they turned…
Dawson couldn’t even hear the engine of the dozer he was running. He couldn’t hear anything but the fire—the ferocious roar of it.
Fear gripped him. But it wasn’t fear for himself. It was fear for Avery. Hopefully she hadn’t sweet-talked that damn kid into telling her where the fire was. But hell, Stanley wouldn’t have had to say anything. No matter where she was in Northern Lakes, she would be able to see the smoke and probably even the flames.
She shouldn’t be in Northern Lakes. She should be back in Chicago. But would she be safe there? The arsonist could follow her. It was obvious he would do anything to get the attention he craved. But his focus seemed to be Northern Lakes.
Dawson believed he’d set this fire. There were too many points of origin for a natural fire—it was coming from too many directions, turning on them.
Like the flames, his fear grew. And now it was for his team. Would they all get out of this alive?
20
AVERY STARED AT the TV mounted over her fireplace. For once she was watching the news instead of reporting it. She could have called her boss at the station, could have had the young male reporter sidelined while she reported about the latest wildfire consuming Huron National Forest. But she’d known she wouldn’t be able to do what he was; she wouldn’t be able to unemotionally report the news.
Fiona thought Avery had betrayed her feelings in the special feature on Dawson. Avery definitely would have done so if she’d reported what Clay was reporting live now.
“While battling this latest blaze to hit the forest in the past few months, a firefighter from the local Huron Hotshots has been critically injured.”
Tears began to stream down her face. It had to be Dawson. He always went back for others, made sure everyone in danger got back to safety. Everyone but himself…
“We’ve spoken to a source at the local firehouse and learned that the prognosis isn’t good for this firefighter,” Clay continued. “He may have already succumbed to his injuries.”
Her heart lurched as pain squeezed it. Damn it.
Damn it.
She loved Dawson. For the first time in her life she’d fallen in love. And before she’d even realized it, s
he’d lost him.
She needed to go back to the firehouse. Ironically she’d left it when the news crews had rolled in. She hadn’t wanted to be on the news when she wasn’t reporting it. She hadn’t wanted her concern for Dawson laid bare for everyone to see.
She understood his anger now over what she’d done—how she’d exposed his life. She’d thought she was doing the right thing, giving him the accolades he deserved. She’d only angered and embarrassed him. She’d even endangered his job.
But she didn’t care who saw her now. She had to go back to the firehouse. She needed to talk to Clay’s source herself. It couldn’t be true…
Dawson was a hero—just like his stepfather had been. Had Dawson died as Martin Spedoske had? Saving others?
She couldn’t stop crying; the tears just kept flowing down her face. Her nose burned, too. And her throat.
It was the smoke. It hung over the entire village like an eerie cloud of doom.
She needed to know for certain who the injured firefighter was and if he was still alive. She clicked off the television and turned for the door. That was when she saw it—the smoke pouring beneath it. It was too much to be from the fire miles away.
This fire was close—as close as the one had been outside her bedroom window.
A little scream slipped from her throat. She whirled toward the sliders. But when she dragged back the curtains—she saw only flames—rising from the bales of hay someone had put on the deck.
How had she not heard anything?
She’d been so engrossed in the news. So focused on the television—on finding out if Dawson was safe. She hadn’t realized that she was in danger now. Of course the state police officers had left a while ago in order to help contain the fire.
The fire had found her—enveloping her as it had them. That was what Clay had reported, that the fire had surrounded the Hotshot crew—giving them no escape.
Dawson had been instrumental in getting her nephews out alive. Couldn’t he have gotten out alive this time, too?
She needed him now—needed him to save her as he had last time. But if he was gone…
She had only herself to count on—which was the way she’d lived most of her adult life. She was smart. Independent. Resourceful.